All I Know Is, I Don’t Know

I watched a tree fall through the roof of a house across the street from us this last week, broken by the wind. I heard another one, next door, take out a few cars sitting in front of our home as it crashed to the ground that same night. These tall, beautiful trees that I usually spend time admiring transformed from something soft and serene into something dangerous and destructive.

To be honest, it was pretty scary.

And as it was happening all I could keep thinking was, do I even believe in prayer anymore?

You see, most of my life has been centred around conservative Christian values and faith. I grew up as a missionary kid; I went to a Christian university; I’ve spent hours upon hours going to church, attending youth group, doing the outreach, going on the missions trips. What began as something that I had to be a part of turned into a practice I chose for myself as I got older. This was largely because my small, young world was completely out of my control in many ways, and I experienced a lot of change in rapid succession. I moved countries, neighbourhoods, schools, and countries again. The religion I was brought up in gave me structure and provided a sense of purpose, of belonging. So I was all in.

Part of this upbringing and background was a strong belief in prayer. I was taught at a young age to pray and talk to God about any and everything, especially when I was scared.

But over the last number of years I’ve begun to ask more questions, to listen to my concerns and curiosities. And now, as I’ve become wholly dissatisfied with shallow answers and uninclusive systems, I don’t know what I believe about God anymore. So situations like last night make me wonder, is there any point to calling out to this God I used to feel so sure about but now don’t know, and maybe don’t care to know?

I’m not really sure.

Before I go any further, please know that the purpose of this post isn’t to share what I do or don’t believe, or to tell you what you should or shouldn’t believe. The heart of this blog is to create a space of belonging, which includes you, wherever you’re at, and me, wherever I’m at.

What I do want to say, though, is that I don’t really know what I believe. And I don’t think I’m alone in that. It’s obvious enough through conversations with friends and Reels on Instagram that many of us whose history is deeply intertwined with the church are struggling. We’re trying to separate out the good from the bad, the truth from the lies, the systems from the people. And we’re trying to see if, after all that, there’s anything left for us to hold onto.

As is true with most things in life, my Christian background was not black and white, all good or all bad. I felt loved. I was given a purpose. I was a part of a close-knit community. And yet, this part of my life that gave me safety and belonging also contributed to my childhood trauma, my current insecurities, and lots of self-doubt.

So where do I go from here? Where do we go from here?

Perhaps you are on a journey similar to mine and find yourself wondering and unsure. Welcome. It’s not easy, but I can tell you that it is good and worthwhile.

Honestly, leaving the church and taking a step back from God has felt a lot like coming home to myself. It’s allowed me to believe in myself and learn that I am trustworthy; that my words, my feelings, my experiences are worth listening to. While much of the messaging I heard over the years convinced me otherwise, time and space are teaching me that it is okay to follow what feels right. That the easy path can also be the best path. That holiness and goodness are not only housed in a church.

By being honest with myself and journeying where my doubts have led me, I’ve found a great deal of peace, joy, and release. I hope you know that you are also allowed to ask questions and follow where they may take you.

But maybe your experience is nothing like mine and you have no qualms with the church. Welcome here. I hope you intentionally make space for people in your life who may be struggling and questioning. Who may be hurting and too scared to speak up and risk their relationships. If they invite you into their process, I hope you are gracious and tender and present.

No matter where you are at and what your background is, I know this to be true for all of us – we crave real people. We desire truth.

And this is mine.

Truthfully, I’m scared of releasing this post. I’m scared that some people will think of me differently. I’m scared that others will feel like they need to pray for me. I’m scared of being judged for being honest and real and unsure.

But even though I’m scared and have no plans of praying about it, I know I’m going to be okay.

Because, while there’s a lot I don’t know, I do know this: there is sacred goodness in this world. It’s there in the trees that still stand tall after a windstorm. It’s there in the neighbours offering to clean up the broken bits and carry the pain of loss together. It’s here in me and in you as we wonder and wander and mess up and make changes so that we can become more full and wonderful and complex.

May we make space to be unsure and unsteady. May we trust our wandering spirits to lead us where we are meant to go. And through it all, may we come home to ourselves, truly and wholly sure that we are an irreplaceable part of the goodness in this world.